Regrets, Revival, Return
by Cecilia Green
Summary: Loki had always been the planner, the man in control, the person who saw everything coming. But could he ever be prepared for an honorable death? Or a frantic escape to Asgard? Loki's thoughts during his death, and how he survived. Takes place during Thor 2. Rated T because I'm paranoid.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Loki is my absolute favorite character from the Marvel movies, and this scene in ****The Dark World**** devastated me. I just wanted to write a short fic about what might have been going through Loki's mind during the scene, and how he might have survived. I wasn't planning on writing any more for this story, but if enough of you want me to, I just might. So please leave a review telling me what you think of the story and if I should write more. Thank you!**

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**Regrets, Revival, Return**

When I saw the Dark-Elven beast looming over my brother, preparing to deal him a fatal blow, I did not think for Thor's life no more than I thought for my own. I thought only of Frigga. I saw the creature that took away the only person who understood me. At that moment, nothing else seemed to matter.

My lips twisted in a snarl and I furiously grasped the blade-tipped staff of one of the fallen Elves. Then I surged towards the beast and thrust the blade through his back with all the strength I could muster. The beast shuddered and slowly turned towards me. I faced its gaze unwaveringly. My teeth were bared and my eyes glittered with mad vengeance. When it took that first step towards me, I knew what was to come.

It didn't make it any less jolting. He picked me up like one might grab a doll, and drove the head of the staff through my chest. My eyes popped open; I gasped, and a shock rang through my body.

The strange thing was that I couldn't actually feel the pain at first. I could feel a burst of wet warmth flowering across my chest and soaking my clothes. I was dimly aware of Thor's devastated scream, but none of it truly registered. The only two things that seemed to exist were my ragged breath and the fiery rage in the creature's eyes. He slid my body off of the blade and threw me onto the ground. I twisted my mouth in the grotesque resemblance of a smile when he glanced down at the grenade I had activated on his belt.

I allowed myself the satisfaction of saying, "See you in Hell, you monster," before he was swallowed into black nothingness.

_Then_ the pain came. It fell upon me suddenly and relentlessly. It surged through my muscles with such ferocity that I felt like my veins would burst. The simple act of breathing became a chore, and my whole body convulsed with pain. I heard the _thunk_ of heavy boots, and suddenly Thor's hand was holding me up. His face, bloody and beaten, hovered over mine. He talked, but I could not hear him.

Thoughts whirled through my head. I have to admit, I was disappointed with myself. I had always planned ahead, always been one step ahead of everyone else. But these last through days had spun out of my control faster than I had thought possible. I had lead the creature to my mother's doorstep, unknowingly causing her death. I had failed her, betrayed her trust and her love. And in my frantic struggle to regain control of myself, I had failed to predict this outcome. I hadn't even considered that I might not be able to control myself, that I would act without thinking. Nothing could have prepared me for this.

I knew I might die. I knew that I probably would. But how, in all the Nine Realms, could I die _honorably_?

I gazed into my brother's eyes. My brother, who had given me more chances to redeem myself than I deserved, who loved me more than anyone, possibly even more than Frigga, and he could do nothing to help me now.

A thought dawned on me, and I realized that I could not die without forgiveness. I would find no peace in the afterlife if my brother never knew my regret. "F-fool," I managed to choke. "I was a fool…"

Again, Thor's lips moved, but his words were beyond my understanding. "Forgive me…forgive me…" I whispered when my voice began to fail me. Thor nodded as he spoke, and a calmness fell over me. I had earned his forgiveness. I could go in peace. And so I did.

At least, that's what I thought. Really, I had just lost consciousness from all the blood loss. Stupid me, thinking of an honorable death and all that foolishness. How could I die then? I still had so much to accomplish.

I awoke what must have been only a few hours later when a boot nudged my side. "Eh! This one's still alive!" shouted a voice from above me. I opened my eyes with difficulty and made out a tall figure in Asgardian armor. Standing over me, spear in hand. My mind swam and the world seemed to spin around me. A weak groan escaped my lips.

"Oh, you're awake, are you?" grunted the Asgardian soldier. "Care to tell us what happened here?"

I tried to look him in the eye, but it was rather difficult when his face kept shifting. I thought up the perfect snarky remark. "You…" I began, but the rest of the sentence was lost in a gasp when pain constricted in my chest.

"Does that hurt, traitor? I hope it hurts," said the soldier.

At this, I was able to growl, "I am no traitor…"

"Oho!" chuckled the soldier. "All of Asgard might disagree with you."

I shot him an irritated look. "Are you just going to stand there and insult me, or will you get me out of this dismal place?"

"Oh, I don't mind at all, traitor. There's a certain king who I imagine might have a few words with you," responded the soldier before turning his head and shouting, "Bjarni! I need some help with the captive!"

_Captive_. The word rang through my mind as two pairs of strong hands grasped me roughly by the arms and hauled me up. Agony rippled through my torso, making my muscles spasm. I hissed, and not just from the pain. When the guards took me back to Asgard, the healers would mend my wounds, and then I would be a prisoner once more. I would be questioned and tormented and despised. I could only imagine Odin's face…

But if I were to remain dead, if I could somehow prevent the news of my survival from reaching Odin, then I could do so much. The whole universe would be open to me. Nobody would pursue me; I would be free. I looked at my captors, my decision made.

"You know, friends–" I began, my voice strained.

"We are no friends of yours," interrupted one of the guards – Bjarni was what the other one called him.

I chose to ignore him and continued, "Just a word of advice. When dealing with a dangerous criminal, be sure to check him for weapons first." As I talked, I slid out my dagger and whirled it around in a swift circle, slicing both of their throats within seconds. The movement made it feel as if my heart was splintering open, and I crumpled to the ground, gasping for air. The soldiers fell on either side of me, blood gushing from their open necks.

I tried to shove the pain to the back of my mind as I struggled to my feet. "Sorry, Bjarni," I rasped. I looked over and saw the mark on the ground where the two soldiers had been transported, the intricate swirl of knots and patterns left by the Bifrost. I glanced down at the soldiers once more, carefully considering my options. Finally, I thought up a plan.

Dressing myself in their armor was a long and painful process, but I eventually managed to pull the heavy metal plates over my blood-soaked clothes. I staggered to the circle of designs from the Bifrost. "I have finished my search!" I yelled to the heavens as loud as I could. As the energy of the portal began to swirl around me, I thought gravely, _Time to return home_.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: New chapter is UP! I decided that writing Loki is way to much fun, and I couldn't possibly quit after just one chapter. A huge thank you to all of you who read my first chapter, and an even bigger thanks to those who followed, favorited, and reviewed. Please tell me what you think of the story so far and feel free to leave any comments, questions, or suggestions in a review! Thank you!**

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I managed to produce a second-rate glamour before the energy of the Bifrost dissipated. It was a mediocre piece of work. The edges were a bit blurred, and a few of my features peaked through here and there, but it was the best I could manage at my current position.

As soon as the portal closed, I was surprised to see Heimdall standing with his sword and his golden armor. He blinked at me. If he was surprised at all, he hid it very well. "Loki," he said flatly.

Of course Heimdall would be able to see through my illusion. I allowed the form to flicker and die, leaving my true appearance, chest wound and everything. I was leaning heavily on Bjarni's staff. My face was slick with sweat and I felt rather faint. "Hello, Heimdall," I panted. "Lovely evening, isn't it?"

While Heimdall carefully kept emotion from his face, his eyes were locked onto the giant gash in the middle of my chest. "What exactly happened?" he asked.

I ignored his question and asked one of my own. "They're still letting you work the Bifrost?" I said.

Then, at least, he allowed himself a smirk. "I'm the only one who knows how." He raised an eyebrow. "Now I ask again, Loki, what happened to you?"

In response, I only grinned before collapsing onto the ground.

As I expected, he didn't help me back up. "You're dying," he stated.

"How very observant of you," I grunted painfully. "I'll be dead in a few moments if I don't get help."

"Two guards went into the Bifrost. What happened to them?" Heimdall asked.

"_What do you think happened_?" I hissed angrily. I was running out of patience, and time. He didn't respond, so I tried a different approach. An approach that would appeal to Heimdall's stiff and honor-obsessive personality. "Heimdall, please," I said. "Please, help me."

He hesitated a moment before walking down to me, leaving his sword in the lock. "I know a healer," he said. "She lives not far from here, and she owes me a few favors. If I ask her to keep your survival a secret, she will do so." He looked at me, pathetically lying on the floor, before saying, "You will not be able to go to her in that form. Can you manage another illusion?"

"In my sleep," I answered weakly. I slid back into the image I was wearing moments ago. The amount of strength needed to use magic and continue breathing left me in a decrepit condition, however. I barely managed to climb to my feet, and as soon as I did, I stumbled once more, only to be caught by Heimdall.

"You can lean on me," he said gruffly, leading me out of the dome-shaped building.

"Much obliged," I huffed. Progress was slow. Heimdall basically had to carry me as I drifted in and out of consciousness. I vaguely remembered stumbling through the streets, walking past buildings that were destroyed during the attack a few days prior. I remembered some strange looks from Asgardians and Heimdall hissing in my ear, "Loki! You have to concentrate. Keep your illusion up. We are almost there."

Then, I was awake on a long, stone table. I tried to sit up, but a pang went through my chest, and I could only grunt and lie back down.

"You have to pace yourself, Loki. You were mortally wounded," said a sudden female voice. I turned my head to see a fair-faced woman standing in a doorway. Her long auburn hair was woven into a long braid that extended down her back, past her hips. She was garbed in a simple blue dress with the protection symbol Algiz embroidered on her breast. She stared at me with stony grey eyes, her expression harsh.

"I assume you're Heimdall's friend?" My voice was hoarse and barely audible, yet she was somehow able to hear my question.

She nodded. "I am, though right now I wish that I wasn't," was her unfriendly reply.

I chuckled weakly. "I don't doubt that you do." I lifted my head a tad to see that I was dressed only in my trousers. My entire torso was wrapped in white silken bandages. My chest felt uncomfortably numb, but that at least was better than the pain.

"My name is Ingrid," said the woman, stepping towards me. She held a small glass of water in her hand, and made to lift my head and feed it to me herself, but I raised my hand.

"Thank you, Ingrid, but I think I can manage this myself," I rasped. She nodded and handed me the glass. I hadn't realized how parched I was until after the glass was drained. I eyed the empty cup and said, "May I ask how long I've –"

"Three hours," she replied sourly. "I tried to heal you as quickly as possible. The sooner you leave this place, the better."

I nodded in understanding. Naturally, Heimdall's friend would be a little bitter about housing a fugitive. I hadn't exactly been expecting a master bed and hot cakes. "When will I be able to leave?" I asked.

"Right now," she responded automatically. I raised an eyebrow at her, and she reluctantly added, "I suppose it would be wiser for you to rest more, but I wouldn't…"

"No," I said, straining to sit up. "No, you're right. Besides, there is some business that I have in the palace."

This caused the healer to start. "The palace? You can't be serious," she said.

"Completely." I winced when I lowered my legs off the table, my hand travelling to the bandages covering my chest. "The Allfather is still waiting for word from the scouting party."

Ingrid sniffed. "I assume he'll never receive it."

I had to grin. "Oh, he'll receive it. From me."

The healer drew herself up and gave me a look that could only be described as complete loathing. "How many Asgardian lives must you take until you are satisfied, Loki?"

I didn't answer, but slid down from the table, the muscles in my chest stretching painfully. "You wouldn't happen to know where my clothes are, would you?" I asked.

At this, Ingrid snorted. "You been those blood-soaked rags you dragged in with you? I disposed of them."

I felt a stab of annoyance. "And what exactly am I supposed to wear then?"

At this, Ingrid gave me a smile. "You could borrow one of my dresses if you like," she suggested innocently.

I scowled. She had obviously been looking forward to this. I needed to disguise myself in the stolen armor in order to enter the palace. I was half tempted to just wear the armor over my bare skin, but the rational part of my brain objected. The sharp metal would shred up both my bandages and my wound, plus seriously bruise my arms and neck. So I simply returned the healer's sweet smile and replied, "That would be very kind of you."

This seemed to cheer her just a tad. She exited the room and returned a few moments later with a long, emerald green dress in her arms. The bodice was embroidered with pink and red flowers, and tiny crystal beads were stitched along the end of the sleeves. She handed the ornate gown to me carefully. "I thought this color would suit you best," she remarked, the barest hint of a snicker in her voice. "Just be sure to return it when you're done."

"Why, thank you, Ingrid," I said graciously, accepting the dress. I considered it for a moment before tearing off the entire bottom half of the gown. I pulled at a loose string and the intricate pattern of flowers unraveled instantly. Then, I ripped the ends of the sleeves off, the beads tinkling together as a few landed on the floor. With all of that done, the dress now looked like a simple green tunic.

I handed the bundle of fabric and thread to Ingrid, the smile still on my face. "I'll send the other half to you when I can," I said kindly. The healer accepted the pile with her mouth agape, and she stared stupidly at the shredded cloth as I pulled the shirt over my head, grimacing at the painful tug it caused in my chest. I walked to the doorway of the chamber and saw the golden armor laid out carefully on a nearby table.

Dressing myself this time was not nearly as painful as it had been before, but still I had to work slowly and carefully to avoid the majority of the pain.

As I headed towards the door, I stopped and asked, "Heimdall didn't happen to leave any –"

"There is a craft waiting for you outside," said Ingrid. She was still staring at the remains of her dress in shock. "Just take it and go, traitor. Never visit me again."

There was that word again. _Traitor_. It made me feel sick. All that I had done, I had done for the good of Asgard and its people. In most ways, I was more loyal to the realm than any of its inhabitants, and I was a bloody frost giant! I knew that my actions were treasonous to the Allfather, but _traitor_? That was a nasty word, and one that didn't even fit me.

Ingrid threw me a poisonous look. "You're still here, traitor?" she said.

My lips tightened into a thin straight line. "I'll be on my way, then," I said. I gave a mock bow. "Thank you again for the dress." Then, I conjured another glamour and made my way outside.

I could tell from my surroundings that I was in the Southeastern Province of Asgard. In the distance, I could see the brilliant towers of the palace. The sun had already fallen beneath the horizon, and the dark of night seemed to swallow the world. I saw the craft parked to my left and climbed on board.

There was plenty of light to drive by from the lamps and torches that lined the streets. I started the craft, and it hummed to life, slowly lifting off from the ground. I flew it towards the palace, deep in thought, wondering if Odin would mourn his son's death.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Here's the next chapter for you guys! Thanks again for everyone who's been reading my story. I really appreciate it. Please be sure to leave a review telling me what you think, and favorite and follow if you so desire.'**

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I flew the craft to the southern port of the palace, where a guard stood waiting. I chose to use Bjarni's voice for my form. "I come bringing news from the Dark Realm," I told the guard. "I must see the Allfather."

A look of dread fell over the guard's face. "You didn't go to the Dark Realm alone," he stated.

I tried to mimic the expression of grief. It was hard to manipulate my illusion. In my weakened state, I felt strangely detached from my magic; while before it had been a part of me, now it felt like I was barely touching the surface of it. Using too much exhausted me, and I couldn't risk any hiccups in the glamour, not now. "Two others accompanied me in the search party. They…did not survive the journey," I said to him.

Apparently, my expression was convincing enough. The Asgardian lowered his eyes. "I will mourn our fallen brothers. Did they die honorably?" he asked.

An image appeared in my mind of the two soldiers lying limp on the ground, thick red liquid pouring from their torn throats. "The lands were full of shadows and illusion," I responded. "The nature of their deaths was obscured from me, but I know that it was swift." That last part, at least, was true. "Now please, I must speak with the Allfather," I continued urgently.

The Asgardian nodded and gestured for me to follow him. We walked together down the hallway. "Of course. King Odin will be most eager to hear your report. What is your name?" he asked.

"Amund," I said. "Amund Rúnison."

"I am Stian Olufson. I was good friends with Bjarni and Geirr, two of the other men who were sent on the search party," he said.

Geirr. So that was the name of the other soldier I killed. "I am sorry, brother," I said sympathetically.

"They died in service of their realm and their king," he returned. "I could not think of a better death." We halted before a pair of grand, golden doors. Beyond was the throne room, where Odin would be waiting for word of his son. Stian looked at me. "I would like to speak with you again, Amund. We could honor our brothers together at their funeral."

I made myself smile. "I look forward to our next meeting, Stian," I said politely.

He nodded and walked away, leaving me in front of the doors to the throne room. I stood there for a moment. I knew what I must do, but for whatever reason, I found it difficult to face Odin then. I couldn't help but wonder how he would react to news of my death. Would he weep? Would he sigh in relief? I wasn't sure which one seemed worse to me.

There was only one way to answer the questions. I took a deep breath and pushed open the doors.

Odin was standing by his throne. He appeared deep in thought, his eyebrows furrowed, accenting the lines of age on his face. I walked towards him and bowed my head respectfully, as an Asgardian soldier would. "Allfather," I said, "I have returned from the Dark Realm."

This peaked Odin's interest. He refocused his gaze on me. I concentrated harder on maintaining my glamour. Very few Asgardians could see through my illusions, but if I slipped up in the slightest, it would not go unnoticed. "What of Thor?" he asked.

"There was no sign of him, or of the mortal woman," I reported, keeping my eyes lowered. I felt that if I looked him in the eye, he would know who I really was. I tried to say the next words as if they caused me difficult. Strangely enough, the feeling was not that hard to feign. "However…there was a body…" I let the sentence hang for a moment.

Then Odin said softly, "Loki."

Finally, I looked up at his face. His eyes were distant, his expression soft. He didn't look particularly surprised or sorrowful, but there wasn't the barest hint of satisfaction or relief on his face. He was completely unreadable, and I could read people very easily.

"He was stabbed through the chest," I continued. "It looked to be caused by one of the Dark Elves."

He nodded. "Yes… Yes, thank you. You have been most helpful."

I stood awkwardly. "It was my pleasure, Your Grace," I replied, not knowing what else to say.

The Allfather waved me away absent-mindedly. "You may go now," he said quietly. I bowed stiffly and exited the grand room. The meeting did not satisfy my in the slightest. I knew that now, I would not be pursued if I chose to flee from Asgard, but my questions were not yet answered. And where would I even go? Jotunheim? Midgard? I was familiar with many realms, yet I could call none of them home.

No. I could not leave. Not yet.

It was then that I realized how exhausted I was. It was late in the night, and my feet felt heavy. My chest throbbed and I found it difficult to lift my eyelids all the way. Soon, I found myself standing in front of my old bedroom door. Strange. I had not consciously gone here. Was it even my bedroom anymore? My hand drifted to the knob and I tried to turn it.

Instantly, an icy-cold force repelled me, forcing my hand from the handle. I sighed in relief. The enchantment still worked. I closed my eyes and concentrated before laying my palm on the knob and saying, "Open to the flesh of the king." Then, I slowly turned it clockwise. This time, the door opened, and I stepped inside.

I was surprised that the room looked the same, even though I knew no one could have broken the enchantment. Everything was untouched; no insects could have entered and no dust could have gathered. Books and papers littered my desk just as they had two years ago. The bed was neatly made, and the bottom corner of the bedpost was etched with mystic runes from when I had first begun practicing magic.

I closed the door behind me and heard a gentle _whoosh_ as it resealed. I struggled with removing the armor, but eventually managed to exit the metal trap with minimal injury, although my wound did protest loudly to the movement. Finally, I was just standing in the room in my trousers, boots, and the ripped tunic I had taken from Ingrid. I pulled off the green shirt and balled it up, stepping towards the dresser, when something caught my eye.

It was one of the older engravings that I had made on my wall. I remembered drawing it years ago – Odin's horn. It showed the three drinking horns of Odin intertwined in a triskele. I had worshipped my foster father back then. I had wanted nothing more than to be in his favor, so I had burned the symbol into the wall, hoping that its power would win me the Allfather's love.

I wrinkled my nose in distaste and passed my hand over the mark, muttering the word _leysa_ for _depart_. Immediately, the symbol began to fade until all evidence of its existence was gone.

That simple act of erasing the triple horn seemed to deplete the last of my energy, and I didn't even bother to change before throwing the tunic onto the floor and falling onto my bed. I drifted into sleep within minutes.

My dreams were a jumble of confusing, feverish images and sounds. I saw all the Nine Realms crashing together and exploding into fiery chaos. Just as that scene ended, another began. I was in Midgard, at the very top of Stark Tower, and I watched as the heavens swelled with blood and released the scarlet teardrops onto the Earth. My vision shifted; I held Thor's mortal girl in my arms, staring into her eyes. They widened in horror, and I realized that the temperature was dropping by the second. I looked down at myself and saw that I was growing. My hands turned gnarled and blue, and I was Laufey.

Finally, I saw myself standing in front of the golden throne of Asgard. I watched Thor and Odin lay their weapons down at my feet and smirked, knowing that victory was within my grasp. Suddenly, an explosion of pain spread across my torso, and I saw the tip of an Elven blade emerge, bloody, from my chest. I turned my head to see Thor standing behind me. His face was twisted in grief as he drove the staff further into me.

His agonized scream was the last thing I heard before collapsing into darkness.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Here's the next chapter for you guys. I hope you're liking the story so far, but if you have any questions, complaints, suggestions, or just plain comments, be sure to leave them in a review, and I can address them in the next chapter or via PM. Thank you and enjoy!**

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I awoke in a cold sweat, my chest wound burning, as if a hot iron was being shoved under my skin. I scrambled up into a sitting position, biting back a scream at the violent burning sensation ripping through my chest. I tore my bandages, revealing the dark, reddish-purple wound that made a perfect line down the center of my torso. Agony knotted up in the area, and I bit my tongue to keep from screaming my torment to the entire palace. I could taste hot, metallic blood well up in my mouth. I raised a shaking hand and laid the palm flat on the injury. "_Forsjá_." I managed to choke out the word for _aid_, but the word of power only made my chest itch more viciously.

I threw back my head and took a ragged breath, spitting out a mixture of blood and saliva. I thought quickly, and struggled to my bedstand, where one of my daggers was lying. I tore the silver knife out of its decorated sheath and tried to hold my quivering hand steady. Slowly, carefully, I dug the tip of the blade into my chest so that it left a thin red line across the surface of my skin. The small sting of the knife helped to distract me from the pain of my wound. I drew a healing rune into my chest – the Berkana, and spat out the word once more, "_Forsjá_!"

This time, relief flooded into my chest, cooling the agony and turning some of my flesh back from dark violet to pale pink. I let the knife slip from my grasp as my head fell back down onto the soft mattress. I gulped down air in a panic. What had just happened? Ingrid's healing should have made my wound more manageable, but the pain I had just experienced…it was like nothing I'd ever been through before.

Could she have poisoned me? Had she tampered with my injury, so that I might die locked in my bedroom in the palace, my body never to be found? No. Some part of me knew that Ingrid would not do that. Her sense of honor was too firm, and she didn't even know that nobody could enter my room.

But how, then? Why did my wound burn the way it did? It was then that I remembered how I got it in the first place. The Dark Elves forged their steel with deadly spells. Poisonous energy ran through their blades. It was that energy that made them so dangerous. If one was stabbed with Elven steel, death was almost guaranteed.

In fact, I had never heard of someone sustaining an injury from an Elven blade and living to tell the tale. The magic in their weapons was quick and effective. Frigga had died almost instantly. So how had I survived?

I looked down at my wound and gingerly touched the long, swollen mark that ran down the middle of my chest. I closed my eyes and concentrated, slowing my breath and expanding my senses. Magic was nothing more than the manipulation of energy. It was living, and it could be detected by a mage with the right amount of training.

And I definitely had enough training.

At first, I felt nothing, just the faint itch of my wound, but eventually, I could hear a small pulse of energy radiating from the swollen flesh. It was like a little heartbeat, constant and steady, but barely audible. My breath hitched. So some of the Dark-Elven magic was inside of me, hiding away in my chest. It must have rubbed off when I was stabbed. That still didn't explain why I was alive.

I made an exasperated noise. I was tempted to try a revealing spell, but I knew it would be futile. Even if I did have enough strength for it, the poison inside of me was strong and resilient. There was a very small chance that I would learn anything from self-enchantments.

Instead, I sat up on my bed, wincing when my injury throbbed. I shoved the pain back, pushed myself off of the mattress, and walked over to my desk, where I started rummaging through the drawers. Finally, I came across a roll of bandages. I gingerly swathed it around my torso until my wound was completely covered. The compression helped to keep some of the pain down. I tucked the end of the soft cloth into the rap and dressed myself afterwards. It felt nice to wear my own clothes again. I wore a black leather shirt, crossed with patterns of green, with a dark overcoat that was studded with gold, green, and bronze. I pulled on a pair of black boots over a fresh pair of trousers. I washed my face a bit in the basin on the far side of my room and combed my jet-black hair away from my face. I did not know why I spent this much effort on making myself look normal. I would be wearing an illusion all day, but for some reason I just wanted to pretend for a moment.

I had prepared my room so that I could hide there if it ever came to that point. Before, I had wondered if it was necessary, but now I was glad that I did. I had kept a small supply of food hidden in the bedroom, and when I found it again, I inhaled it all faster than Volstagg at his birthday feast.

It did not even begin to calm the aching in my stomach, but it was better than nothing. Once I was finished with the hard crackers and dried fruit, I had already decided what I could do with my day.

Yesterday I was weak, barely able to stay on my feet, but now I had regained some of my strength. I could maintain the image of an Asgardian soldier without putting on the heavy armor. Perhaps I could roam the palace, gathering news of the battle with the Dark Elves and my brother.

The conjured the same form that I wore yesterday, and my hand barely touched the door handle when I heard voices from outside the room.

"…What I don't understand is why he would be so upset about it," said one voice. "He was a traitor, a scoundrel, and a frost giant. The world is a better place without him around." I didn't need to guess who they were talking about. I started to understand at the word _traitor_, but _frost giant_ definitely gave it away.

"Don't let the Allfather hear you say that," warned a second voice. "Or Thor, for that matter."

At this, the first voice snorted. "I wouldn't…" The rest of the sentence was lost as the guards walked further away from the room.

I was too interested to miss the conversation. I let my form evaporate, instead making myself invisible, and exited the room quietly. I caught up to the guards quickly and followed them down the hall. The first guard was still talking.

"The Allfather has not left his chambers since receiving the news of Loki's death. There is some talk that he has fallen into another Odinsleep," he said.

"Well, what else can you expect? The king lost his wife only days ago. And just yesterday, received news that his traitor son is dead? Especially if it was a good death… Honestly, a man can only take so much," argued the second guard.

"There was nothing good about Loki, not even his death," said the first guard. "Besides, he is still king of Asgard. It is his duty to remain strong for the sake of his people. There is also talk that he may not be present to welcome Thor home."

The second guard scowled at this. "You should stop listening to all of this 'talk.' It might interfere with your ability to do your job."

I did not hear them finish the conversation. I had paused in my tracks when I heard that Thor was coming back. So, my brother had survived the battle after all. That could only mean that he had been successful and that Malekith was defeated. It was a small comfort that my apparent death had not been in vain.

I grinned to myself. If Odin would not see Thor, then there was a small chance that _I_ could. It would be risky, but some part of me felt that I could not possibly miss the opportunity. Perhaps it was because Odin's reaction to my death had been so unfulfilling. In truth, I did not know why I had the need to see Thor again, but I knew that I did not have a choice in the matter.

Staying concealed beneath my invisibility charm, I snuck through the winding corridors of the palace until I found the Allfather's chambers. I tried to open the doors. As I expected, they were locked, but a quick spell allowed me access to the room.

It was grand and golden, at least twice the size of either Thor's or my rooms. It was like a small house inside the chambers. I entered through the bedroom, where a long, golden cot was stationed at the far side of the room. I walked through it curiously. I had been inside Odin's chambers before as a child, but the grandeur of just the Allfather's sleeping quarters never ceased to amaze me.

The sound of talk interrupted my thoughts. I turned to the doorway of a separate room. It was smaller than the first, and it was completely lit by candles, as the drapes to the enormous windows were drawn. Odin knelt before a marble statue of Frigga. His eye patch was gone from his face, revealing the ugly empty socket where his left eye once was. His right eye was closed, and his head was bowed.

I was careful to keep my footsteps light and silent as I neared the Allfather, straining my ears to hear his words. I was only a few meters behind him when I was able to hear.

"For the first time in a long time, I do not know what to do," I could hear him mutter. "Loki was our son. He was smart and cunning. He would have made the best advisor. Things could have been so much simpler. Why can't things be simpler?" His voice quivered. A lump began to form in my throat, though I tried to swallow it down. Never before had I seen Odin so bare, so vulnerable. I shook my head and listened intently as he continued.

"I had been torn since his betrayal. I did not know if he was my son, or just another criminal to be locked away. Now that I know how good he could have been, how _honorable_… Frigga, it just makes his passing more painful." He cleared his throat and looked up at the statue's face. Frigga's motherly smile beamed back at him with no more life and feeling in it than a corpse.

Odin sighed. "Thor is returning today, I suspect to claim the throne. I know that I should be there, Frigga, but…" He sighed again. "I am so lost without you, my love. So lost," he admitted.

It was too much for me. I inhaled sharply.

Immediately, the Allfather's back straightened at the noise, and he looked around. "Is anyone there?" he demanded, his voice like an iron fist.

I stood absolutely still, not even daring to breathe. He could not hear me, he could not see me…

The Allfather slowly reached out a hand and brushed the air behind him, but I was too far away for him to feel me. "Loki? Frigga?" he breathed. I kept silent. After a moment, Odin slumped back down, his eyes downcast.

I could no longer watch him like this. I quietly exited the room and closed the door behind me, leaving my foster father to his ghosts.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Alright, readers, here is the next chapter! I want to say that I appreciate the great feedback you guys are giving me. I also want to apologize for some of the inaccuracy during the coversation between Thor and Loki. I don't remember what they say word-for-word, and since tickets are rediculously overpriced and I'm broke, I can't get a ticket to watch Thor 2 again to refresh my memory. So I had to make up stuff a little bit, but I hope it's still acceptable.**

**To fan-de-carlisle-cullen: My best answer is because Odin is a dick. That is all.**

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I exited the Allfather's room, feeling strangely disconnected. So he had mourned me… Well, that was a bit of an understatement. I had never seen Odin so helpless before. Had he truly cared that much? I shook my head. It did not matter. His affections had come too late. I was not his son anymore, and he had no right to be sad for my death.

I looked forward down the hall and refocused my mind. I had the information I was looking for. Odin surely would not leave his chambers for quite some time. I had the opportunity that I wanted. I could see Thor. As I neared the throne room, I adopted the form of the Allfather. To anybody watching, it would have looked like a small disturbance in the air, followed by the likeness of Odin suddenly appearing out of nothing.

I tried to radiate the power that Odin always carried, the grandness that filled up the room. I made his golden and scarlet robes shimmer in the sunlight, plus a little furnishing here and there. Wiped away some of the wrinkles, added a little silver to his scraggly white beard. After all, I do care about my image.

I entered the throne room to see a small group of councilmen standing before the steps of the throne. They looked to be preparing to welcome Thor home. This would not do. I had to see him alone. "What is this?" I asked, filling the Allfather's voice with authority and strength.

One of the men started at my voice, and he turned his head to see me. "Allfather." His surprise was clear in his voice. "What are you doing here? I was told that you were unwell."

"I am well enough to see my son, I assure you," I told the councilman.

In response, he bowed his head and said, "With all due respect, Allfather, there are certain matters –"

"I would speak to Thor _alone_, councilman," I interrupted, trying to mimic Odin's irritation.

The councilman's head bobbed up and down in a vigorous nod. "Yes, Allfather. Of course. My apologies," he said before herding together his group and exiting the room.

"Fools," I muttered, turning my back and climbing the stairs. I paused before the throne at the top. It had been two years since I had last sat in this chair – when Thor was banished to Earth and Odin was sleeping. I had been proud, powerful, in control. But now I had to disguise myself as my weak and foolish father just to walk into the room. It was embarrassing, really.

I shoved the thought from my head. Now was not the time for pride. Thor would be here any moment. I had to stay in character.

No sooner had I sat down on the golden throne than I heard the grand doors on the far side of the room open. Thor walked down towards me, Mjolnïr in hand. I had to say, he looked terrible. I could tell that he had tried to clean up. His armor was repaired and his hair was washed and combed, but his face was bruised and beaten. Long, jagged gashes lined his face above his eyebrow, across his cheek, and branching off from the side of his nose to his jawline. Had I not been in hiding, had I the ability to reveal myself, I would have laughed out loud at his decrepit condition. But not now. I couldn't so much as blink.

Thor paused beneath the steps and knelt down at my feet. It took nearly all of my willpower not to smirk. Thor kneeling to _me_.

"Rise, Thor Odinson," I said in the Allfather's voice. As he slowly rose to his feet, I saw Thor's face twitch just the slightest. The movement caused him pain. Good.

"You have once again exceeded my expectations, Thor. Your actions have saved the Nine Realms from the Malekith's destruction," I said. Was I doing this right? Would Odin be this fair?

Thor didn't seem the least bit suspicious. He bowed his head. "I could not have done it without the help of my friends, Father. They were no less brave." He hesitated before continuing, "Father…Loki, he…" I felt my heart beat harder in my chest. Impossible – Thor was giving me credit? I looked at him carefully. He seemed genuinely grieved. I found myself leaning closer, itching to hear his words. How would I be remembered in my brother's eyes?

Thor swallowed hard and finally said, "Loki sacrificed himself to protect us. Without him, Jane and I would have had no chance of defeating the Dark Elves." He paused and looked up in me. "I believe he has redeemed himself, Father." The sincerity in his voice hurt more than I thought it would, but I had to stay in character. I allowed Odin's face to assume a bit of sadness.

"We found Loki's body on Svartalheim. He had been impaled on an Elven blade. There was nothing we could do," I said. To this, Thor only nodded, his eyes downcast.

Why were they mourning me? Odin, Thor… I was not their blood. I had betrayed them both time and time again, and yet still they grieved. I remembered Thor's words to me only days before. "You should know that when we fought each other in the past, I did so with a glimmer of hope that my brother was still in there somewhere," he had said. "That hope no longer exists to protect you. You betray me, and I will kill you." Now I looked at him, and I realized that he was remembering me as a brother, not as a traitor or a frost giant. I was still family to him. Did that mean that Odin remembered me as a son?

I could not think of this now. Instead, I drew myself up. "It appears that I have misjudged you, Thor. Perhaps you have begun to see more than I. You will make a fine king of Asgard," I said.

At this, Thor also straightened his back. He seemed to be deciding on something when he said, "Actually, Father, I've been thinking. I do not wish to claim the throne of Asgard."

I could not stop the pure shock from flashing across my face. What? Did he just say…?

"My experiences on Midgard have made me realize how much good I could do throughout the galaxy. As much as I could see as King of Asgard, there are still things that are hidden from us. We are not gods. We are not all-powerful, but we could still do so much more." Thor smiled to himself. "Besides, I was never the right son for the throne. In the past few years, I have broken our laws and customs more than any king should."

I was still having trouble believing what Thor was saying. How could he renounce the throne? "Where would you stay, Thor? Asgard is your home."

"But I am not needed here," he said.

I forced myself to continue acting. I shook my head sadly and gave a small chuckle. "One son who wants the thrown too much and another who will not take it. Is this to be my legacy?" Then I looked at him, and my expression softened. "The Bifrost will always be open to you, should you need to return," I said.

"Thank you, Father," he responded gratefully. Thor turned and walked out of the room. As he did, I let my true form show for the briefest moment. "No," I said quietly. "Thank_ you_."

It was only after I had left the room and returned to my soldier disguise that I realized how stupid that had been. Odin would not stay in his chambers forever, and when he left, what would he think when he found out that Thor had chosen to give up the crown.

That simple thought of Thor staying at Midgard still made my mind reel. Why would he do that? After all the crimes I had committed, all the vile things I had done to be king, Thor would just give it all up? I shook my head. We really were different.

"Amund!" I heard a voice call from behind me. I jumped, my thoughts interrupted, and turned to see another Asgardian walking towards me. It took a moment to remember his name. "Stian," I said finally.

"What are you still doing here?" he asked, his tone friendly.

I thought quickly. "I was injured while fighting the Dark Elves. The healers recommended that I remain in the palace to rest until I have fully recovered," I replied.

He nodded. "Walk with me, I wish to introduce you to some friends of mine."

_Oh, for the love of…_ I nodded begrudgingly, and he led down a corridor. This was bad. This was very bad. The more people knew of this mysterious 'Amund Rúnison,' the more people would start asking me questions. When was I born, where did I live, who was my commander. I could not make up everything. Sooner or later, someone would realize that something was not right with my character, and I would be discovered.

"Who am I meeting?" I tried to sound casual, but my throat felt tight, and the words came out harsh and nervous.

Stian appeared not to notice. Gods, how thick were these guards? "I don't suppose you've ever met Lady Sif and the Warriors Three?" he said, grinning.

Damn.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Hey, guys! I am so, so, unbelievably sorry for the wait on this chapter. In addition to the ever-bitchy writer's block, I also had a ridiculous amount of schoolwork, a symphonic band concert, a marching band rehearsal, and a parade to participate in. But enough of the excuses! I do hope you guys like this chapter, and please review. I love hearing whatever feedback you guys can give me. The next chapter will be up soon *virtual pinky promise*.**

**To JohnGilbertVampirehunter: Thanks for the info and I'm glad you let me know. The funny thing was that I found transcripts of both Loki's death scene and the conversation between Thor and Odin/Loki after I already posted the chapters. I know that I could have reposted them to be more accurate, but I didn't because a) I'm super lazy, and b) I thought it might be a bit repetitive to just write down exactly what happened in the movie. I mean, you guys have already seen the movie, so why not make up a few things? Still, I appreciate your help.**

**If anyone wants to see the transcripts of those two scenes, you can find them on the Loki fansite godofmischief .org, or on their tumblr page.**

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Stian lead me through the halls, oblivious to my hesitance and discomfort.

Sif and the Idiots Three. How exactly would I think myself out of this? I eyed Stian thoughtfully. Should I kill him? No. I was lucky to get away with Bjarni and Geirr so easily. A third death would not go unnoticed. I could say that my wound was troubling me and leave. Would that raise suspicion? I couldn't risk it.

In reality though, my chest _had _begun to ache a few minutes ago. The Berkana I had drawn earlier was deteriorating at an alarming rate, and I was unsure if I had enough energy for another healing spell before I had to face those imbeciles. I cursed silently. How could I possibly make it through this meeting as a crumpled mess on the floor? Already, I could feel the familiar itch creep along the surface of my skin.

I peered at Stian once more. Perhaps if I hid the body…

No. Bad idea.

"Is there something you would like to ask me, Amund?" he said suddenly.

I blinked. "Erm, no. Why do you ask?"

"You were giving me looks," Stian replied curiously.

A lie formed easily in my mind. "Yes, actually. How did you come to know these people? Surely warriors of such renowned prowess would not…well…"

"Waste their time conversing with a lowly guard?" Stian finished for me, a small smile quirking his lips.

I allowed my form to take on a slightly sheepish expression. "I didn't mean –" I began.

"No, that's quite alright," he interrupted. "Actually, it is quite a story. It was some time before Thor's banishment and Loki's first betrayal." I winced inwardly at his last words. A look of sweet remembrance passed over the guard's face as he recalled, "It was at a feast in celebration of the Prince's latest victory in battle. Now pardon me for saying this, but Thor was quite frankly drunk off his arse. He was challenging every other man to a duel. And while he won every one, each fight cost him more of his strength. He had saved his biggest and mightiest opponent for last, but by that time, he could barely stand.

"All the other men who attended the feast watched and laughed, waiting for Thor to lose and humiliate himself, but I volunteered to represent the prince in his duel."

I raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Did you win?"

To this, Stian laughed aloud. "Are you joking? I was torn to shreds, but at least I spared Thor from the fight. After that, both of us had to be carried from the hall. Sif, Volstagg, Fandral, and Hogun helped Thor to his quarters, but before I was sent away, they thanked me for looking after their friend."

I nodded, only half-listening, until Stian added, "Even Loki gave me his gratitude."

I looked at him. "Did he?" I asked.

The guard nodded. "He admitted to me that they were all somewhat looking forward to seeing Thor finally lose a fight, but afterwards he thanked me for defending his brother's honor." Stian paused thoughtfully before saying, "I still have trouble connecting the Loki of that night to the criminal everyone talks of now. Then, he was so…polite, I suppose. He was calm and humorous and honest. I couldn't picture him as a madman." He shrugged then. "I suppose you never really know who a person really is. They may wear a convincing mask, but there is always a stranger underneath," he finished.

I had to feel slightly bad for not remembering Stian from that night. Of course, Thor had gotten wildly drunk at many feasts, but I would expect to remember the one guard who actually thought of me in a positive light. I was actually starting to like him.

But then another pang went through my chest, I remembered my situation, and I wanted to kill him again.

"We are almost here," he assured me, misunderstanding my frown. Still, I gave him a tight smile and nodded.

"So you are close to the warriors?" I asked, just for the sake of conversation.

Again, Stian shrugged. "We have talked briefly on a few occasions after that night, but I've only exchanged a few words with them since…well, since the prince's betrayal." He looked like he was about to say more when his eyes suddenly lit up. "Greeting's friends!" He bellowed. I turned and saw that the hallway had ended in a lounge. Fandral, Volstagg, and Sif were conversing with each other in a small circle at the center of the room.

Volstagg was the first to say something upon our entrance. "Stian Olufson," he declared, a grin slightly visible behind his great red beard. "It has been far too long." He rose to greet us, with Fandral following behind, and Sif bringing up the rear.

"Who is this? Don't tell me you've found a new boyfriend in my absence!" the blonde warrior jested. I raised an eyebrow at Stian. He did not elaborate on the meaning of Fandral's statement, but I saw a bright redness creep up his neck.

"Ah, no," Stian replied. "Where is Hogun?"

"You hadn't heard?" Fandral asked, surprised. "He chose to remain on his homeworld, to be with his family. Now don't be shy, Stian. Who is your friend?"

"Fandral, Volstagg, Sif, I would like you all to meet Amund Rúnison," Stian answered. "He went on the expedition to Svartalheim. And…he was the only survivor."

At once, all of their expressions darkened. Volstagg said, "So you were the one who found his body." _His_ body. Like my name was so difficult to say.

At least it wasn't _traitor_ or _frost giant_.

I didn't have to feign the grim expression. I hardly enjoyed recalling that moment. "Yes, that was me," I confirmed. Where was this conversation heading?

Volstagg nodded before saying, "Thor told us of his death. I still have trouble believing…" He trailed off, uncomfortable.

_Have trouble believing what? That he didn't stab Thor in the back?_ I thought. _I have trouble believing that as well_. "I did not know what to think when I first saw the body," I said.

"And what happened to the body?" Sif asked from behind Fandral. I turned to her cautiously. She had not spoken since Stian and I had arrived, and I could see cold suspicion in her eyes.

"I do not know, my Lady," I said, adding a little confusion to my expression. "Shortly after discovering it, we were ambushed my some Dark Elves who had survived the first fight with Thor, Loki, and the mortal. My comrades did not survive the attack, and when it was finally over, the body was gone. It could have been destroyed, or taken."

It was a poor explanation, but believable. Sif nodded slowly, and looked prepared to ask another question when Fandral interrupted, "Why do we speak of such dreary matters? We have come to celebrate! The Dark Elves are defeated and the Nine Realms have been saved. Surely this warrants a feast."

Volstagg's eyes glittered at the thought. "Indeed! I am simply starving," he exclaimed.

"When aren't you, my friend?" Fandral remarked. He turned to Stian and me, a grin spreading across his face. "Stian! And… Stian's friend! Let us go and celebrate this great victory." He casually put an arm around Stian's shoulders and walked towards the exit, with Volstagg following close behind. I considered taking this opportunity to leave, when Sif spoke up from behind me.

"Not in the mood for feasting?" she asked.

In reality, my stomach twisted painfully in hunger, but that was nothing compared to what my wound would feel like in a few minutes. I would prefer not to show so much discomfort in public, as it would surely draw unwanted attention. I inclined my head and responded, "I have never been one for celebrations. I see warriors get drunk off of their victories. I find it more appropriate to remember battles for their solemnity, not for the glory."

Sif nodded slowly. "Whenever I attend these feasts, I instead see men trying to recover for the troubles they have endured. Often times I join them. Now, however, I feel that I've lost my appetite."

"Oh?"

"Yes," she said. "You see, something doesn't sit quite right with me. As I recall, only two soldiers were sent to search Svartalheim – Bjarni and Geirr, both of which you said perished in a fight with Dark Elves. So, I ask myself, where do you fit in the picture?"

My heart thudded violently, and my chest burned viciously. I was seconds away from discovery. What would I do if she uncovered my identity? Would I have to kill her? Stian I might have gotten away with, but Sif?

"I was not authorized to attend the search party," I admitted. Sif raised an eyebrow curiously, and I elaborated. "But I could not resist. If I was the one to recapture the war criminal Loki… Well, I could not even imagine the reward. I acted selfishly and foolishly, I admit it. I was lucky to escape with my life." I could see the disbelief plain on her face. How did I survive, she would ask. She would question and probe until she learned the truth. So what could I say? What would she believe?

I sighed heavily, adopting a haunted, ashamed expression. "I…I fled from the battle." _Thor abandoned me in that wretched wasteland._ "When my comrades were struck down, I know that I could have helped, but I panicked, and left before I could be taken." _He saw me get stabbed through the chest, but he chose to save his own skin and left me to die._ I looked up at Sif, my eyes glistening. "If I had been honorable and acted with courage, then they might still be alive. I can never forgive myself." _I can never, ever forgive him_.

I felt relief wash over me when Sif nodded grudgingly. Surviving a Dark-Elven attack because of pure luck was a far cry from believable, but a dishonorable coward? Much more likely. "You understand that you cannot keep this secret forever. If you ever want to live with yourself, then you must tell someone. Soon," Sif said grimly.

I wanted to laugh at her, the gullible fool, but instead I nodded wearily. "I know, but not now. I need…time," I said.

The warrior raised her chin. "I understand. Perhaps some food might help. We should go quickly before Volstagg eats every last morsel," she said after a moment. As she walked passed me, I turned to follow. I took a step forward –

– and felt a sharp stab of pain force its way through my wound. My twisted and I clutched at my chest, a ragged gasp escaping my lips.

Sif turned towards me curiously. "Are you well, Amund?" she asked.

"I have to go," I grunted as I shoved my way passed her, keeping my head down so that she could not see my grimace. I heard her call after me as I staggered through the halls back to my room. Each step was another hammer blow to my chest, leaving me shaking and breathless. Finally, I reached my door, and I hastily grasped the knob. Immediately, the enchantment reacted. Coldness shoved me back from the door, its frigid force momentarily turning my fingertips Jotun-blue. I uttered a curse and tried to calm myself before laying my palm on the handle and saying, "Open to the flesh of the king."

I had just begun to turn the knob when I felt the sharp sting of a dagger press against my throat. "I think not," growled a voice behind me.

I stood, frozen, and slowly cut my eyes to the side so I could see my assailant.

Stian's harsh gaze greeted mine.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: I did say that I'd post the next chapter soon, didn't I? Anyway, here you go. I saw that a couple of you were confused about the ending to the last chapter, but I think this might clear some stuff up for you. Be sure to tell me what you think in a review! Thank you!**

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I noticed immediately that something was different about Stian. His skin was ashen grey and his eyes were glazed over like a blind man's. I felt his breath on my neck, cold and harsh. "Well done," I said carefully. "How exactly did you find out?"

A wide grin slowly spread across his face, though his eyes remained dead and unexpressive. He bared his teeth and drew in another wheezing breath before answering, "_He_ showed me the truth. He allowed me to see what was plainly in front of me. Now, I am to deliver to him what is rightfully his."

Okay. Definitely something wrong with him. "What have you done to Stian?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. It was all I could do to keep standing.

At this, he barked out a laugh. "It is no different from what you did to the petty mortals when you wielded the power of the Tesseract. Perhaps a bit more thorough." His expression quickly turned back to stony. "That is not of import. You _will_ surrender the gem to me," he hissed.

The laugh escaped me before I could stop myself. It quickly died in my throat when my chest pounded forcefully. "I have no idea what you're talking about," I huffed.

Stian released an animalistic growl and whirled me around. He shoved me against the wall and pressed the blade harder against the skin of my neck. I felt a single bead of blood slither down to my collarbone. "Do not play games with me, Son-of-None," he said. His voice was low and raspy. "I can feel its power inside of you. Give it up now, and I will end you quickly. If you do not, I will burn it out of you." A twisted smirk curled to corners of his lips.

Again, I laughed through the pain in my chest. "Hardly a good incentive. The end result would still be my death." When he raised me higher above the ground, I added quickly, "In any case, it matters not. I do not possess any gem."

"Oh? Then what is _this_?" Unexpectedly, he withdrew the knife and pressed his knuckles harshly against my chest.

My glamour disintegrated as agony exploded across my torso, forcing its jagged edges through my veins, shredding my muscles. I could not help myself. I screamed. Tears stung at my eyes. "I – don't know – what you're talking about!" I yelped. Stian grasped the collar of my shirt and flung me to the other side of the hall. I slammed against the wall and fell to the floor. For a moment, my vision was just a jagged line of red, and I knew nothing. But I regained my wits only seconds later.

I was lying on the floor, my limbs trembling. My shirt was soaked through with hot blood from my reopened wound. I heard Stian's knife clatter to the ground when he neared me, and he used both hands to jerk me to eye level. "Give it to me!" he demanded. I spat blood in his face.

His knuckles cracked against my jaw, and my head jerked to the side from the force of his punch. I willed myself to lift my head and look at him. His blue lips were pulled back in a snarl. His glazed-over eyes burned into me. "The Tesseract! Give it to me!" he shouted again.

"The T-tesseract?" I managed to slur. My entire face had gone numb at this point.

Stian's face twitched in agitation before he bellowed, "I will rip your heart out, Son-of-None!"

"Stian?" a voice said suddenly. He turned his head to the source of the noise. I took advantage of this momentary distraction. I snatched up the discarded knife and plunged it into a chink in the armor of his leg. He howled and staggered backwards, revealing the person who had spoken earlier. It was Sif. Her eyes widened when she caught sight of me. "Loki," she said in astonishment.

"Get him!" I shouted at her. Sif's eyes went back to Stian. He pulled the knife out of his leg and hobbled awkwardly towards her, the weapon raised. She reacted quickly and dodged when he sliced towards her. She turned the duck into a spin and maneuvered herself to Stian's left before jabbing him in the throat. His step faltered, and he choked weakly, falling to one knee. Sif circled around him once more and slammed her foot down behind Stian's other leg.

He was on both knees then, and the knife slipped from his grasp. Sif quickly caught it before it hit the ground. She quickly glanced my way. "Kill him! It's not Stian," I urged. Sif raised an eyebrow doubtfully and instead struck him across the face with the hilt of the dagger. Stian's eyes rolled up before he slumped to the ground. Then, Sif slowly turned to face me.

I had scrambled into an awkward sitting position, my back against the wall and my legs sprawled out in front of me. One of my hands was pressed up against my chest, trying to contain some of the blood. Before she could say anything, I panted, "How… how did you…"

"I found Fandral and Volstagg unconscious in the hallway. I thought…" She halted and eyed me with hostility. "What are you doing here? How are you still alive?"

I sighed. I was shaking uncontrollably and my head felt like it was going in circles. My chest still twisted painfully with every movement, and my fingers had begun to go numb. I really wasn't in the mood to explain everything. "Sif…"

She took a threatening step towards me. "Thor saw you die in his arms. He saw you get stabbed through the chest –" She stopped speaking as realization spread slowly across her face. Her eyes flicked down to my chest, which was still oozing blood.

Blackness had begun to creep into the edges of my vision. I knew I was moments away from losing consciousness. "I'll explain," I said, "but I can't really do that if I'm dead, now can I?"

Sif gripped the knife more tightly. "I'm willing to find out," she said.

I growled in frustration, "This is important, Sif! Help me up." Still, she didn't move. "What exactly do you think I'll do in this state?" I said scornfully.

"You've surprised me in the past," she muttered grudgingly, but finally she knelt down and let me put one arm over her shoulder. She carried most of my weight as I struggled to my feet.

"Just get me to the door," I rasped at her. She helped me limp forward and I rested my hand on the knob. Blood dripped from my fingertips, making the brass handle slick and difficult to grasp. "Open to the flesh of the king," I choked out before twisting it clockwise. The door slowly opened, and we stumbled onside. I didn't get the chance to say anything before she dumped me unceremoniously on the bed. I groaned at the furious burning in my chest.

"What now?" Sif demanded, standing at the foot of my bed with her arms crossed. I forced my eyes open and looked at her in irritation. Though she sported no injuries that I could see, hair was in disarray and her eyes were angry and bewildered. Some of my blood had smeared off onto her armor, staining the light blue tunic she wore underneath.

I lifted my head to look at her. "Stian. Go get Stian." Sif nodded curtly and exited the room. She returned moments later, the unconscious guard flung over her shoulder. I raised an eyebrow, silently impressed by the woman's strength. When she deposited Stian in an empty chair, she looked at me. "In one of those drawers, there should be a long line of thin, golden rope. You can tie him up with it," I said.

As Sif searched through the desk, I struggled to sit up and delicately began removing my shirt. Every movement caused another spasm of pain to shoot through my skin, and I had to bite my tongue to keep from screaming again. Sif eyed me agitatedly, holding up the golden rope. "Exactly how am I supposed to do anything with this rope? It's tiny."

"It's enchanted," I told her through clenched teeth. "No one can break through those. Still, better tie him up tightly."

Sif shook her head. "Food, supplies, enchanted rope, and a permanent lock on the door… You haven't set foot in this room for years. Was this already your personal fortress before Thor's banishment?" she asked.

"It was necessary," I said gruffly.

"It is strange," she said, starting on Stian's restraints. By this time, I had unrolled a long strip of gauze and wrapped it around my torso, staunching the flow of blood. Once that was done, I looked down at my trousers. They were ripped in various parts, and patches of it were soaked through with blood. I began to undo the buttons.

"Done," Sif said finally, backing away from the bound soldier and looking back up at me. When she saw that I was removing my pants, her face reddened and she quickly looked away.

"I'm sorry. Am I embarrassing you?" I said mockingly, sliding out of the wet, sticky fabric.

"You're disgusting. Why are you taking off your pants?"

I gave her a deadpan look. "You did see the blood, right?" I said. She snorted angrily, and I couldn't keep from smirking. "Could you toss me some of the clothes in that drawer to your left?" I asked. A few seconds later, Sif threw a wad of clothes at me, hitting me square in the face. "How mature of you," I muttered, and I began to dress myself in the black trousers and the dark green shirt. When I had finished, I grabbed the dagger that was still lying on the bedstand and began to carve another Berkana in the skin of my forearm. I quietly spoke the words of a more complex healing spell, stronger than the last. Hopefully this one would last me longer.

After the spell was complete, I put the dagger down next to me. Though the pain in my wound was slightly more bearable, I felt completely drained. The one thing that I needed most at the moment was sleep.

I knew, however, that I wasn't going to get any in a while. Sif cleared her throat, grabbing my attention. "Right," she said. "You're all patched up and wearing pants. Stian is tied up with magical rope in your room. I think I deserve an explanation."

I crossed my legs and gestured towards her warily. "Ask away," I said.

"First of all, why did Stian attack you?" She paused for thought before saying, "Sorry. That answer is pretty obvious. Why did Stian attack _me_?"

"That probably had something to do with the fact that it wasn't Stian," I answered.

Sif didn't look any less confused. "You said that before. What do you mean?"

"I mean that he was being controlled. I did something similar to some of the mortals while I was on Midgard." I furrowed my brow. "Stian – or whoever was controlling him – said that they wanted me to give them the Tesseract."

"That doesn't make any sense," said Sif. "The Tesseract in in our relics vault. Why would he think you have it?"

I slowly spread my fingers over my chest. I could still feel the strong pulse of energy resonating under my wound. "He said he could feel it in me…" I murmured thoughtfully. _That constant, furious itch…_

"Sif, help me up," I said.

"What?" she asked.

"Help me up. We need to go to the infirmary." I tried to slide myself off of the bed, but my knees felt unbelievably weak. Sif was next to me before I could fall.

"Why are we going to the infirmary?"

I looked at her. "There is something inside of me, Sif. Poison or power or something else, but I need to understand what it is, why I have it, and why others want it. You don't happen to know how to operate a soul forge, do you?" The she-warrior shook her head. "That's alright. I can walk you through the steps," I said.

"The difficult part will be actually getting you there. Can you veil us, or project an illusion?" Sif pointed out.

I wish that I could have said otherwise, but I had exhausted my reserves on the healing spell. Now, I could do little more than walk. I shook my head at her.

"Great," she muttered. Sif turned her gaze to Stian. "What about him?" she asked.

"What about him?"

"Well, he _has_ been brainwashed. Sooner or later, he will wake up –"

"At which point he will find himself in bonds he cannot escape, in a room that no one can enter," I finished.

"What if he needs food, or –"

I cut her off, "I have to remind you, Sif, that Stian tried to kill me a few moments ago. You'll have to forgive me if I'm not feeling particularly hospitable."

She nodded reluctantly. "Fine," she said, starting towards the door, "but you have to tell me everything – _everything_ – that I ask about."

"Gladly," I responded.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Let me just tell you guys that I am SO SO SO unbelievably sorry for the wait. I know, I'm a terrible person, but before you get super nervous, just let me reassure you that I am going to continue this story no matter what. If Tom Hiddleston comes down to Earth in the flesh and enslaves us all with another evil space pirate army, I will still be writing. I am going to try to post another chapter every week, if not in shorter intervals, but I'm not going to promise anything because if I do, let's face it, the next chapter will show up two months from now.**

**Anywho, I hope you guys enjoy this next chapter. Please leave a review telling me what you think or what I could have improved on, and I'll see you next chapter.**

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"The relics vault is shielded. No one would be able to detect the Tesseract's energy within two worlds of us. So how could Stian sense it – inside of _you_ of all places?" was Sif's next question. I sighed in exasperation. I had already answered all of the easy questions – _What happened to Bjarni and Geirr? Who aided you when you returned to Asgard? How did you convince the Allfather that you were dead?_ Now, she kept asking me the impossible ones – _How did you survive being stabbed? Who was controlling Stian? What are we going to do with him?_

At this point, I had gotten tired of explaining to her that I knew none of these answers, and had simply resigned to just shaking my head. But every passing moment made my body weaker and heavier, and soon even that became a chore.

"Will you stop being so loud? You will attract the whole palace," Sif hissed irritably. I did not bother with a retort for two reasons – because I was too tired, and she was right. I tried to be as quiet as possible, but my breath was ragged and I could not stop the occasional groan from coming out. My vision was hazy, and my legs felt as if they were made of lead. I considered just giving in to my exhaustion right then and there, but dismissed the idea almost immediately. More than anything, I needed to find out what was inside of me. My thoughts were interrupted when the she-warrior spoke again, "You know, we'd probably get there faster if I carried you."

I glared at her menacingly. "Don't you dare," I said through gritted teeth.

Sif rolled her eyes in response, and we continued for a little while longer. It wasn't long, however, until she started giving me sideways glances again. What a sight I must have been. I walked hunched over, my steps lethargic and uncoordinated. I felt as if I would keel over any moment. "Why don't you lean on me?" she suggested eventually, taking a step towards me.

I shoved her away with an unintelligible growl. By the gods, how could Thor ever _stand_ this woman?

Sif made an exasperated noise. "I'm trying to help you, Loki, and I still don't even know _why_."

I sneered at her. "As much as I appreciate your concern," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm, "I don't need help walking."

She gave me the same look that one might give to a child having a tantrum. It only fueled my frustration. "Loki, will you just stop for a moment and _think_ –" She was cut short when I grabbed her forcefully and pushed her up behind a pillar, my hand covering her mouth. She struggled for a moment before I slowly lifted a finger to my lips and pointed out into the hallway. A pair of guards walked by. I waited until I could no longer hear the sound of their boots on the floor to back away from Sif. Once I did, she gave me a glare laced with venom. "Touch me again," she warned, "and I will kill you."

I couldn't help but laugh, though it came out more like a dry cough. "Good to know," I said as evenly as I could. We continued down the hall, and soon we reached a long, empty hall. Doors lined the walls, and a dim blue glow shimmered behind each of them. I stopped as we entered the corridor, panting heavily. The room had begun to spin around me, and my limbs trembled and throbbed. Though the phantom pain in my chest was being kept at bay, a terrible heat still pulsed around the flesh of my injury. I backed up against a pillar and slid to the ground, shoving the burning screams of pain back down my throat.

"What are you doing, Loki?" Sif hissed when she saw that I was no longer following her.

"I can't…I need to…" I shook my head, trying to rearrange my thoughts. "Find an empty room," I told her.

She hesitated a moment before saying, "Don't let yourself be seen," and turning back to the row of rooms, searching for one that was unoccupied. My first thought was to turn invisible, but when I tried to touch my magic, a wrenching cramp twisted in my gut. I gasped out loud and shimmied around the column, out of sight. Sif returned only a few moments later. I had not the energy to object when she threw my arm around her shoulder and hauled me into the available room.

I managed to climb onto the long, metal table of the soul forge, but then I flopped onto my back, trying to find oxygen. A thin film of sweat coated my brow, and through the ringing in my ears, I could hear Sif say, "OK. How do you work one of these things?"

I tried to answer, but my tongue felt thick and heavy. I just needed to sleep…

She grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me into awareness. "Loki! Focus! What do I have to do?" she said sharply.

"There's…there's a panel…" I mumbled through the fog covering my senses. I slowly told her the process of activating the soul forge, and guided her through the steps of operating it. I knew I was difficult to understand – at times, I didn't even know what I was saying – but eventually, I heard Sif say, "Loki, I don't know what this means."

I forced my eyes open and stared at the holographic copy of my body hovering a few inches above me. My clothes and features were gone, and swirling colors symbolized the life's energy flowing through me. I saw the regular gold of my heartbeat as well as the deep, grayish-blue from my Jotun blood. Specs of green magic drifted through my veins, shimmering and blinking as it tried to refill my reserves.

I was snapped further into consciousness when I caught sight of the jagged line of red running down the center of my chest. It writhed and oozed, seemingly choking my doppelganger's heart in a knot of malicious crimson particles.

But there was no Dark-Elven black to be seen in the hologram. Not a single speck. In its place, a thick line of electric-blue crawled up and down the length of the red. Its glow was blindingly bright, causing me to squint. I noticed tiny tendrils of energy flicking out from the blue river, stabbing at the scarlet line, causing it to slowly shrink and shrivel away. Bit by bit, the blood-red rope was being diminished, pecked away by the glowing blue light. My jaw dropped in a comical way, but I was too awed to care.

"What? What is it?" Sif asked me urgently.

"It's the Tesseract," I replied, still slightly in shock. I reached out my arm to touch the swirling blue energy, but a twinge stabbed through my wound. I saw a small flash of sharp, yellow light spasm around the ragged red line.

"What do you mean it's the Tesseract?" she demanded. I turned my head to look at her, noticing a little too much how she bit her lip in frustrated confusion, and how her brow furrowed, making her bronze-colored eyes scrunch up slightly.

"I'd recognize that energy anywhere," I murmured, looking back up at the hologram. "Somehow, some its energy got inside of me." I wondered how long it had been residing in my body. Probably since my attempt to take over Midgard, I thought. My continued interaction with the energy must have caused some of it to rub off on me. I thought back to the staff that I had used. In order to manipulate its power, I had to open myself up to it, let it fill both my mind and body. Perhaps a bit of it remained, even after I stopped using the weapon.

That would explain why Stian was able to sense it. The relics vault was heavily shielded, but my body was not. Without the proper concealment charms, the energy of the Tesseract would have been just as easily detected as if the cube itself was sitting in plain sight. I was a walking beacon of energy.

I continued, "The energy of the Tesseract seems to already have eaten away the Dark-Elf poison. Now, it looks like it's slowly healing my wound."

Sif nodded. "That would explain how you survived. It would have begun healing you immediately after you were injured," she said.

I silently agreed, but peered at the blue light curiously, new questions forming in my mind. "But if it's healing me, there should be no pain," I remarked quietly. "Look. Something is aggravating the energy, causing it to lash out. That's why my chest has been burning," I said, taking note of how the blue energy angrily twisted this way and that every few seconds.

"But what would be able to do that?" Sif wondered aloud.

I thought hard, keeping my body carefully still so that I could focus my mind. I was missing something, something important. It was just out of reach. Suddenly, it came to me. "Gem," I blurted.

Sif raised her eyebrow at me. "Gem?"

I nodded in confirmation. "Stian called the Tesseract a gem. Why would he do that? No one could mistake a glowing, blue cube as any jewel or type of rock, especially an Asgardian, who knows what it is and what it's capable of. So why would he call it a gem?"

Sif paused and considered for a moment. "We could interrogate him," she suggested. "I could get him to talk."

I was shaking my head almost as soon as she started talking. "He'd never tell us. And even if you tortured him with every tool at your disposal, the force controlling Stian would simply leave his body, and we'd only have a seriously injured soldier to take care of."

I stopped for a moment to think. Finally, I said, "There is one other person who might be able to tell us about this 'gem.'"

"Who?" the she-warrior said, her eyes brightening.

I gave a heavy sigh. "Odin."

Sif's mouth tightened into a thin line when she heard my answer, and a hard look took over her face. "That is going to be difficult," she stated. "How do you hope to get the information from him without revealing yourself?" I could only imagine how surprised Sif felt, saying those words. She had threatened to kill me only three days ago, and now she found herself helping me to conceal myself.

"I can't," I answered her. "I am going to have to speak with the Allfather myself and explain the whole situation. When he knows how dire the situation his, he'll have no choice but to help. It's the only way to ensure that he will give us all the needed information."

Again, Sif's eyebrows shot up her face. Her surprise was evident from her expression. "_You're_ going to speak to the Allfather. He could just kill you on sight. You're not nearly strong enough," she said.

At this, I only looked deeper at the hologram that was still suspended in the air above me. "That's not necessarily true," I said. "Before, I thought that the energy inside me was poisonous, that if I opened up to it, it would kill me. But now that I know what it is, now that I know I can use it…" I didn't finish the sentence, but instead reached my arm up once more to the hologram, trying my best to ignore the pain that went shooting through my chest.

This proved harder than I thought, as I could actually _see_ the bright yellow sparks fly along the surface of my doppelganger's chest whenever pain flashed across my wound. Still, I ground my teeth and reached further up until my fingers were inside of the hologram. The blue particles of the Tesseract reacted to my touch and curled softly along my fingertips, lightly circling down my arm to my wrist.

The interaction with the hologram awakened an energy that was slumbering deep in my chest, the energy that I had fearfully locked away, thinking it was Dark-Elven poison. Slowly, the Tesseract's power seeped through the walls of my magic, filling up my body. A tingling sensation spread across my torso, and a buzzing started in my head. I felt my energy return bit by bit until I could successfully sit up without a single flair of pain.

Even as I got up off of the table and the soul forge's hologram faded away to nothing, I could still feel the Tesseract beating inside of me like a second heart. Every pulse injected more strength into my bones and cleared away more of the hazy fog that had clouded my brain.

I looked at Sif, feeling brighter than I had in days. She regarded me carefully. "You're not going to let me come with you," she said after a few moments. It wasn't a question.

"No," I said simply.

Sif shook her head, looking a little disappointed. "I would think that you'd be smarter than this, Loki," she said. "You still cannot fight the Allfather alone."

"I am being smarter," I replied evenly. "I need you to get Fandral, Volstagg, and Hogun if they are well enough. I get the feeling that I will need your help soon."

As soon as the words left my mouth, the warrior's glare was back. "I don't like helping you, Loki," she articulated, "but this seems to be bigger than you, bigger than all of us." She took a step forward, and I instinctively took one back. "Understand this. You have proven time and time again that you're word means as much as a pile of shit. I know who you fight for – yourself. So don't try any tricks on me, or you may not survive you're next 'death.' Do I make myself clear?"

I found myself smiling. "Crystal," I said casually. Sif narrowed her eyes at my nonchalant response, but turned away and started to exit the room all the same. On her way out, she paused and said over her shoulder, "Make sure you aren't seen."

I scoffed and replied, "If I don't want people to notice me, then they usually don't." Sif snorted, knowing that I was exaggerating my talents. Besides, I was little more than a limp and useless sack of meat only minutes ago. Still, she left.

I shook my head and exited the room shortly after. This was going to be interesting.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Hello, again! Here's the next chapter for you guys. I'm trying to move the story along to keep things from getting boring, but I tried to incorporate a little bit of a Loki-character-moment-wachahoozit. If it's too slow or too fast for any of you, please tell me. Also, if you guys have any other comments, questions, or suggestions, I would be more than happy to hear them. So please leave a review telling me what you think, and I will see you next chapter. Enjoy!**

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I walked through the halls of the palace, and though I had shrouded myself in invisibility, I was still painfully aware of how my footsteps echoed through the empty corridors. They seemed louder than before, but that was to be expected. With the power of the Tesseract flowing through me, my senses were expanded. My vision turned sharp and focused. The details of my surroundings were etched out in defined ridges. Everything seemed clearer.

I looked down at my arm and tugged up my sleeve, revealing the Berkana I had drawn into my skin. The spell I had made was certainly lasting longer. The healing rune looked barely touched. I peered at the mark curiously. Perhaps I could quell the Tesseract's energy a little, keep it from lashing out.

I focused my mind on suppressing the energy, keeping it from attacking the spell, but as soon as it began to recede from my arm, it jabbed outward aggressively. A painful surge of heat traveled up from my chest to my neck. It felt angry, hostile. Immediately, I released my hold, and it settled down.

I cursed under my breath. I knew I couldn't control the Tesseract. My adventure on Midgard was proof of that. My…experiences…with the Chitauri had weakened me, body and mind, making me all too vulnerable to the Tesseract's power. My sanity and control had slowly begun to dwindle as the time passed. I was actually lucky to have been defeated. If I had spent so much as another day in such close proximity to the Tesseract, I could not have withstood its strength.

Oh, the extra power was handy now, but eventually, I would be consumed. If I didn't go mad first.

I clenched my jaw at the thought of going to the Allfather for help. I knew it was necessary, that it was the only option, but that did not make it any easier. I still did not know what I was going to say to him. It wasn't like I could just waltz into his chambers and say merrily, "Hello, Odin! I'm not dead now, but I will be if I don't get rid of this Tesseract energy inside of me! Would you be able to help me with that? Oh, and by the way, there is this person who can possess others who also wants the Tesseract. In fact, he or she possessed one of your guards a few hours ago. He's currently tied up in my room."

No. This would require tact. But how?

My mind briefly traveled to Sif. Why was she still helping me? She had no reason to give me assistance. I had tried to kill her a number of times before. There must be something she wants from me, some way to turn this around… But some part of me knew that it wasn't like Sif to manipulate, to have a hidden agenda. Could she be controlled, like Stian? Again, I dismissed the notion. Stian had taken a direct approach. He was blunt, brutal, and urgent. Whoever wanted the Tesseract, they needed it immediately. They would not wait for me to find out why.

I suddenly became aware of how close I was to the Allfather's chambers. I would have to face him soon. I would have to ask for his help. I would be completely at his mercy, out of the shadows for what felt like the first time in…well, my entire life. How could I put myself in such a position? I had been bare and helpless once before, when I was in the hands of the Chitauri. Never again, I had promised myself. Yet here I was, little more than a year later, minutes away from putting myself before the Odin of all people. Was I mad? A good number of people would have answered with a resounding 'yes.'

I realized that I was nearing the grand golden doors. I briefly wondered what form I should appear in before shifting into the guise of Amund. Odin would be more open to talking to a guard than with wayward, psychotic foster son.

I paused before the doors to his chambers and raised a hand to knock. I stopped just short of the door's surface, and clenched my fingers into a fist. What was wrong with me? Every bone in my body screamed at me to turn around, to leave before I was seen. I had always operated in the shadows, hiding, waiting, plotting. I have never done differently.

What was I even doing here? I had only wanted to live long enough to avenge Frigga. I didn't have any other responsibility tying me to this place. I could let the world burn and laugh at the ashes – why should I care?

I could not think of an answer. Nor could I find the will to leave. Something kept me cemented in place. A desire to help, a need for redemption – I did not know. All I knew was that I had to see this to the end. If that meant seeking help from the one person I hated most in the universe, then so be it.

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and brought my fist down on the door. A single, small knock followed, one that I could barely hear. I scowled at myself. "That was pathetic," I muttered, and knocked again, three times. There was no answer. I furrowed my brow and knocked again, louder. All that greeted me was silence.

Perhaps Odin was not well enough to answer. The last time that I saw him, he had looked completely and utterly destroyed. Maybe he was simply ignoring me. I began to turn around, to walk away, but stopped before I could take a step. Something wasn't right.

I turned back to the door and knocked again with urgency. "My King! Allfather!" Still, no one answered. I bit my lip uncertainly, my hand traveling to the knob. Seeing that it was locked, I utter a quick spell and heard the lock click open. Was this a bad idea? Probably.

I opened the door and cautiously stepped inside. "Allfather?" I called again. Closing the door behind me, I took another slow step forward. "Hello?" For reasons even I did not know, I dropped the illusion. In a second, I was dressed once again in green fabric and black leather. "Odin?" It was dark inside the room; the curtains were drawn and every candle had burned itself out. Barely enough light existed for me to see that the main bedroom was empty, just as it was yesterday. I peered around until I caught sight of the separate room and walked inside.

Tails of smoke drifted lazily from the candles, and Frigga's statue cast a long and dark shadow across the floor. Lying before the statue, I could see the hunched over form of the Allfather. "Odin, can you hear me?" I said quietly, stepping slowly towards the body. As I neared, he did not move, or make any sound. "…Father?" I tried. Still no answer. A feeling of dread slowly crept up my spine. _No no no no_…

I rushed over and knelt down beside Odin, turning his body so that I could see his face. His one eye was closed, and his skin felt cold. Was he breathing? I couldn't tell. "_Father_! Odin, please…" I said, shaking him roughly. He did not respond. Quickly, I set him back down and pressed my ear against his chest. In the few seconds that I could not hear anything, I felt the cold fingers of terror grip my heart like a vise. But then, I heard the gentle _thump thump thump_ of his heart, and the fear was gone. He was just in the Odinsleep.

There was just a second of peace when I sighed in relief, but then the anger flared within me. I surged to my feet, furious and disgusted with myself. I had feared him dead. I had _feared_ his death! I snarled in rage, whirled around, and struck the wall behind me.

Pain exploded through my knuckles. I swore viciously and drew back my hand, cradling it to my chest as a shower of dust and fragments of stone fell from the wall. I grimaced and looked up at the sizable crater I'd left in the stone. Another spasm of pain shot through my fingers, and stared at my hand. Blood ran down from the split skin over the knuckles, my fingers were crooked, and bumps rose from where jutted bone pushed against my skin. Again, I cursed before snapping out a healing spell. My fingers snapped together and the skin over my knuckles closed, leaving behind the thin ribbons of blood as the only proof of my brief loss of control.

I was angry. Angry at Thor for leaving me on Svartalfheim. Angry at Odin for falling into his slumber. But most of all, angry at myself. How could I let the Allfather get to me like that? When had I he ever pushed me react so extremely? _Thor's banishment. Midgard,_ said a voice in my head. _Shut up_, I told myself.

I looked down at Odin's limp form. _He can't help me. I should just leave him_, I thought, but I didn't. Instead, I grasped him around the chest and half-carried, half-dragged him to the grand, golden bed in the other room. After I deposited him on top of the decorated covers, I rolled him over and adjusted his position until it looked like he was lying comfortably, all the while saying, "What am I doing? Why am I doing this?"

But I ignored the words coming out of my mouth and instead sat beside the bed, watching as the Allfather slept. I was wondering if I should say something. I knew that he could hear me. "I hate you," I blurted. Stupidly, I had expected him to react somehow, to wince or shout or just look at me. But of course, he didn't.

I sighed and held my head in my hands. "So I'm alive. Sorry I didn't tell you." I paused, as if waiting for him to answer. When he didn't, I looked at him, slumping, my elbows resting on my knees. "Why are you doing this? I was doing something _good_ for once. And the one time, the _only_ time that I need your help, you go and…" I gestured at him helplessly, "…fall asleep." Something was tickling the side of my face. I reached up a hand to brush it away, and was shocked to find moisture coating my cheek.

I stood up suddenly, seething. "You are not my father," I said, more to myself than to Odin. I began to walk away. As I did, painful memories began to drift through my head.

_You are my son._

_No, Loki._

_I wanted only to protect you._

_Your birthright was to die._

I stumbled at the last one, and grasped onto a desk for support. A large, heavy book fell to the floor. I paused for a moment before bending to pick it up, and read the title that was etched in artistic bronze-colored letters: _Ancient and Lost Artifacts, the Complete Encyclopedia_. I squinted curiously. What would Odin be doing with this? "Why the sudden curiosity, Allfather?" I murmured, opening to the front page. A thought flashed through my brain. _Why did Stian call it a gem…_?

Quickly, I searched the book until I found a promising passage – the Infinity Gems. I whirled through the paragraphs, absorbing the information with growing interest. Six gems in total…each gem controls a certain aspect of reality…used to power the legendary Infinity Gauntlet. As I read that sentence, I remembered seeing a golden gauntlet sitting on a stand in the relics vault. More specifically, I remembered six empty slots that warped the smooth metal. I shook my head and continued reading. When assembled, the gems grant the bearer absolute control over all realities. My eyes widened. Gathering multiple gems in one area can cause massive spikes of energy.

I spread my fingers over my chest. More than one gem…

The Aether.

The book fell from my hands. I had to move the Aether. It wasn't safe to keep it near the Tesseract. But what about me? Whoever wanted the gems would hunt them down relentlessly. That painted a very large target on my back. I'd need to hide. No, I'd need protection. No, I needed to find out who was hunting me. I gritted my teeth at the whirlwind of thoughts going through my mind. First things first, I had to tell Sif and get her to move the Aether, get it away from me.

I started towards the door, but paused and looked back at Odin. "I am going to fix this," I told him. "I am going to save people. But in case I never get the chance to tell you later, I just want you to know that I'll do it without you. I want you to know that you were wrong about me."

With that, I left him, and I exited the room without looking back.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Here's the next chapter! Again, I apologize for the wait. I hope you all have a great New Year! Don't forget to leave a review telling me what you thought of this chapter, and be sure to include any questions or suggestions you have about the story. Thanks!**

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I did not pay attention to the clatter of my footsteps as I hurried through the halls of the palace, veiled in shadows. My mind was still reeling from what I had just learned. I tried to remember my time with the Chitauri, but whatever recollections I could muster were faint and fleeting. I remembered the dizzying, cold confusion that accompanied my madness. I remembered that the scepter in my hands was the only source of warmth around, that everything else felt so dead and cold. I remembered the pain of the Other's touch.

I shook the memory from my head, unwilling to continue down that dark road. Besides, it was becoming increasingly apparent that none of my broken memories would aid me now. I only knew that the Other had wanted the Tesseract, and that was it. It never spoke to me about what they were using it for, or why. I was just another mindless servant, not so different from Barton or Selvig. I wanted only the Earth – I didn't care how I would get it.

I suddenly realized that I had stopped in place, and that my hands were trembling at my sides. _If you fail, if the Tesseract is kept from us, there will be no realm, no barren moon, no crevasse where I can't find you_.

I willed myself to move, to continue looking for Sif, but my body would not obey. The memory wormed its way through my skull, unwelcome, painful. _He will make you long for that so sweet as pain_.

_No_!

I forced the memory away, daring not to relive the torture. The cold. I suddenly felt ill, but continued through the corridors, angry at myself. That was a stupid thing to do. Stupid.

I heard voices coming from a branching hallway, and stopped, listening closely. Wrapping my cloak of shadows tighter around my body, I crept down the hall. It wasn't long before the voices became more distinct and recognizable. I nearly sighed in relief when I saw Sif and Volstagg coming towards me, absorbed in their argument.

"Sif, this is madness!" Volstagg said in a desperate tone. "Loki is beyond reason. His heart only craves for power, and you know that. We should be informing the Allfather of his survival, not aiding him in his latest scheme!"

"It's different this time, Volstagg," Sif insisted. "Loki did not know about the Tesseract, or that it was inside of him. He is being truthful."

"How can you know that? The Liesmith faked his own death – twice! If he could fool the Allfather and Heimdall, then he can fool you too."

"I saw Stian attack him. I saw him get injured. I am certain that this danger is very real, and that Loki is as much a target as any one of us," Sif responded icily.

I had to admit, I was surprised at her sudden faith in me. I did not know whether to think her foolish for trusting me, or insightful for recognizing the truth in my words. Either way, I was rather appreciative of the support.

Volstagg held the bridge of his nose, obviously struggling with patience. "Sif…"

I thought it best to keep this from going further. "Where is Fandral?" I inquired aloud. I found amusement in their bewildered expressions as they looked around, frantically searching for the source of the noise. I smirked and threw back my invisibility charm, revealing myself.

Volstagg's eyes narrowed as Sif responded, "Fandral is not well enough to travel. How long have you been following us?"

I shrugged nonchalantly. "Long enough," I said with another mischievous smile.

She rolled her eyes. "Alright then, Loki. We're here. What do you need?" Volstagg looked at Sif with a mixture of frustration and astonishment at her willingness to help. I couldn't help but feel a certain satisfaction at getting the she-warrior's cooperation. Though her expression was still wary and reluctant, she had not shown any signs that she would betray or abandon me. I did not remember the last time I had an actual ally.

"What did you learn from the Allfather?" Sif said, interrupting my thoughts.

I blinked at her, somber at the thought of Odin, lying on the floor of his room, and my fearful cry for the patriarch when I had thought him dead. "The Allfather has fallen into the Odinsleep," I responded gravely. "I was not able to talk to him."

"How convenient," Volstagg growled. I threw him an irritated glare. I was not in the mood for his suspicious jabs. I was certain that the warrior would cause me trouble later. I found myself suddenly wishing that it was Fandral, not Volstagg who had accompanied Sif. He, at least, was more placid than this aggressive behemoth of a man.

"Hardly," I said. "He could have provided useful information about the Tesseract and whoever is seeking it." I turned back to Sif and continued, "Fortunately, I did learn something about the Tesseract. It is something called an Infinity Gem, one of six. My guess is, it is the one called the 'Space Gem.'"

"The Space Gem?" Volstagg asked, his frustration clear on his face. I closed my eyes, trying to keep my patience. I knew that I was being too fast, that they could not possibly hope to keep up at the rate that I was explaining, but honestly, I did not have _time_ for this.

"Let's go," I snapped, walking ahead of them. "I will explain on the way."

I heard the two warriors follow up behind me. "On the way to what?" Sif asked.

"The relics vault. The different Infinity Gems, when assembled and placed inside of a device called the Infinity Gauntlet, give the wearer control over all realities." I looked at Sif as I continued, "But simply having two Gems close to each other result in spikes of energy large enough to attract the attention of beings worlds away. That is, if they are not properly shielded."

I saw the look of confusion flash across the warrior's face, but then her deep, golden eyes brightened, and I could practically see the wheels turning in her head. "There is more than one Gem in the palace," she stated.

I nodded. "I suspect that the Aether is the Power Gem. We must take it away from here."

"Wait!" Volstagg halted in his tracks.

I whirled around at him. The _fool_! We needed to hurry. "What?" I demanded.

Volstagg looked furious. His eyes blazed as he looked down at me. I simply returned his glare with all the venom I could muster. Though it was a tad ridiculous, I found myself wishing I was taller. After a moment, Volstagg snorted, "I did not agree to this. I am not going to steal from Asgard's sacred treasures based on a crazy story coming from a liar and a fiend!"

I rolled my eyes, exasperated. "When you agreed to help, Volstagg, I wonder what you thought we were going to do. Sit down for tea? Go frolicking in the palace gardens? Would that have suited you better?"

His chest swelled indignantly. He fumed, "I don't think –"

"Don't try to think, Volstagg. It really doesn't suit you," I interrupted. With that, I turned around and continued down the hall.

I only made it two steps further before I felt strong hands grasp me by the shoulders, whirl me around, and sock me in the jaw. I stumbled backward, dazed. I didn't have enough time to regain my senses before Volstagg lifted me up off the ground and threw me down the hall. "You filthy, selfish, traitor!" he bellowed.

I skidded across the floor and rolled onto my back. Images came back to me – the towering green beast thrashing me against the ground like a rag doll, the Kursed monster hefting me up and running me through with the Dark Elven blade.

I suddenly realized something. I _hated_ being picked up.

I climbed to my feet, a new rage rushing through my veins. The energy of the Tesseract crackled and buzzed around me, dyed green from my own magic. At that moment, everything seemed so small and insignificant. I was a giant, a god. Everyone else was but an insect compared to me. I sneered and lifted a single hand towards Volstagg, who was standing a few meters in front of me, crouched in a defensive position. I released a tiny burst of green energy from my fingertip.

Volstagg flew backwards as if he'd been launched from a catapult. He landed flat on his back, limp. I was before him in a mere second. I was so _fast_ now. I looked down at the warrior. He was still conscious, but he seemed unable to move. I realized that I was keeping him locked in place. Shimmering emerald tendrils snaked around his limbs, gluing him to the floor. Subconsciously, without even realizing it, I had rendered him completely defenseless. Volstagg looked up at me, his face contorted in agony. His eyes shone with genuine terror. He opened his mouth, but no words came out.

It dawned on me that I could kill him now. It would be the easiest thing. With the Space Gem's power at my disposal, I could even teleport the body away. I grinned, and was raising my hand towards him before I even knew it.

Out of nowhere, I felt a boot swing around and kick me hard in the ribs. I staggered away from Volstagg, winded, when another kick was delivered to my chest. Pain exploded up and down my wound, and I fell down, barely able to stay conscious.

I became more aware when I heard the sound of metal being unsheathed, and felt the prick of cold steel against my throat. Slowly, I lifted my gaze and saw Sif standing over me, sword in hand.

I allowed the Tesseract's energy to recede. My mind became clear, the high of the fight fading away. _What just happened_? I asked myself. My eyes flicked over to Volstagg, who was picking himself off the floor, groaning softly. _Did I just do that_?

I was jerked back to reality when Sif pressed the blade harder against my throat. "What the Hell was that?" she hissed.

"I'll tell you what it was," Volstagg sputtered. I looked at him. He was hunched over and wiping blood from the corner of his mouth. "That was the truth, Sif. The truth which you refuse to believe. He will kill you as soon as you lower your guard. Can't you see that?"

"Be silent, Volstagg!" Sif snapped at her companion. She turned her gaze back to me. Her eyes were blazing with a fierceness that made me shrink.

I chose my next words carefully. "We need to move the Aether as soon as possible. Nothing else matters. If we don't get it out of Asgard soon, then Stian is just the beginning. You have no idea the power that these Infinity Gems possess. They will call people here, and they will fight and destroy until Asgard is nothing but desolation, burned to the ground." I paused for a moment, letting my words sink in. "The power of the Gems will drive people mad…like what it just did to me."

All the while, I never broke eye contact with her. Sif's face was stony and devoid of any expression. She simply glared at me with enough intensity to make my insides grow cold. I knew that this woman would not be easily fooled. If I slipped up one more time, in just the slightest way, she would gut me without hesitation. Finally, after several unbearable seconds, she withdrew her blade and put it back in her sheath.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Volstagg's jaw drop in disbelief. "You…you don't seriously believe this?" he said. "Sif, use your head! He is manipulating you!"

Sif ignored him, and she stepped back as I got to my feet. "Let's go, quickly. The sooner we're done with this, the better," she said. I nodded. Before Sif could take a step, though, Volstagg was right beside her, grabbing hold of her forearm.

"I'm not going to let you do this, Sif. I'm not going to let you get yourself killed," he said.

At this, Sif jerked her arm from the man's grip, a scowl on her face. "Do not presume to be able to dictate my actions, Volstagg. I came to you for help, but I will not allow you to slow me down. Accompany us or don't, but _never_ try to tell me what to do," she said. With that, she continued down the hall, towards the relics vault. I hung behind for a moment in silent admiration. Then, I shook my head and began to follow her, until I heard Volstagg's gruff voice behind me.

"Wait." I gave a small, strained smile and turned my attention to him. He was now standing at full height, though I could still see a thin film of sweat coating his brow. He took a step towards me. "I don't know what your game is, Loki. You seem to have Sif convinced that you're not doing this for selfish reasons, but I know better. So let me tell you this – if you lay a finger on her, if you show the slightest sign that you mean Sif harm, I will –"

"Spare me," I said. Volstagg grew red in the face, but I ignored him and continued, "Threaten me all you like, Volstagg, but the fact remains that you cannot do a single thing to stop me, even if I did intend to hurt your precious little friend." The warrior's eyes blazed furiously, and my grin widened. I sighed. "I admit, my motivations are a tad selfish, for you see, if the entire universe were to be destroyed…well, I can hardly see how I'd benefit from that." I glared at him, the smile still on my face. "But even so, if you find fault in my ways, please, I invite you to try and stop me. I think your second attempt to subdue me would be no less amusing than the first."

With that said, I turned my back and continued on my way. But I paused, and after a moment, added thoughtfully, "Oh, and Volstagg? Don't ever pick me up again." The warrior huffed, and I smirked. "So are you coming or not?" I asked innocently. Then, I started down the hall after Sif.

I was not surprised to hear Volstagg's heavy boots follow.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Here's the next chapter! I am so sorry about the wait, but Midterms are coming up, and I still can't believe I survived the combined forces of Math and World History homework. I will try to post the next chapter as soon as possible, but please be patient with me. Until then, please read and leave a review telling me what you think, along with any questions or suggestions you might have about the story. Bye!**

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The doors of the relics vault were large and built of sleek, thick wood. Thick ropes of gold twisted and knotted along the surface of the doors, shaped and spun in intricate patterns. To the average onlooker, it would appear as only a decoration, a small clue at the power and beauty that resided within the room. I, however, recognized that the vague shapes and runes that were formed in the golden design. Layer upon layer of spells and enchantments clung to the grand wooden doors, thick like a woolen blanket. Most of them were shielding charms. Others were alarms.

I stood before the doors, on arms stretched out in front of me. I twitched and moved my fingers slightly, feeling the small forces and disturbances in the air where the spells were formed. My eyes were closed, my brows knit together in concentration. _If you were to invoke the power of the Tesseract, this would go much faster_, said a small voice in my head, but I shooed it away. I dared not access the hidden power within me now. This close to the Aether, the energy spikes would surely overwhelm me, and I would be useless. The mere thought brought a faint itching sensation back to my chest. I ground my teeth in irritation. The Berkana was slowly withering away, and soon, the pain would come again.

Besides, I could not risk falling under the Gem's thrall again. Surely, if I lost control once more, Volstagg would kill me without a second's hesitation. I wasn't even sure if Sif would allow for me to go on.

I huffed wearily as I felt the spells push my power further back. I should not let my mind wander while trying to undo the enchantments spun into the door. They were simple indeed, but powerful and in great numbers. I would need all of my concentration to unweave the web of magic that guarded the relics behind the wood.

Just as I refocused my mind, a loud and obnoxious voice hammered against my ears, shattering my concentration. "What is taking so damn long?" Volstagg demanded.

And just like that, all of my focus disintegrated. The spells rebounded on me with such a force that I stumbled backwards. I was snapped back into the present, and my eyes opened.

I saw Sif and Volstagg standing a little to my left. Sif held her sword in her hand, keeping her eyes down the hall, the epitome of vigilance, whereas Volstagg stood beside her, his axe held absentmindedly in one hand as he eyed me suspiciously.

It took all of my self-control not to go for his throat right then and there. "You thick-skulled worm!" I hissed. "If you would just give me some quiet, then it wouldn't take so long."

The warrior's eyes blazed, but he seemed to think better than to start another fight. "The longer we stick out here, the more of a chance we have at being spotted," he growled at me, a little too loud.

I winced and cast a wary glance down the hall. Seeing no one, I turned to glare at him once again. "You know what else might attract attention? Bellowing our presence to the entire palace," I said. "Now shut up for a minute and let me do my work." I turned back to the door and stepped a little closer. Before I started, I looked back at the two warriors and said, "Undoing these spells is going to take time and concentration. I need complete silence. As soon as the alarms are lowered, we need to act quickly and quietly. If my focus is disturbed for even the slightest of seconds, then the alarms will come back on and we'll be trapped in the vault until the guards get here."

Sif nodded her understanding, but Volstagg merely snorted. "Do you take me for a fool, Loki?" he asked.

I rolled my eyes. "I'm not going to answer that." I didn't give him time to retort before I closed my eyes and focused my mind.

As my senses expanded and my magic took effect, a map formed in my head, a map of the layers energy that shrouded the door. I saw the wall of shielding spells that smothered the power behind it. To any lesser sorcerer, it would have appeared impenetrable. I, however, could make out all the little cracks and seams between the blocks. Thin as they were, it was enough for me to get through.

I lifted my hand and felt out the tiny chinks, filling them with my own magic so that they swelled and grew. It was much like picking a lock, worming my magic through the nooks and other openings until the enchantments fell aside, disarmed and dormant.

Finally, I had made a clear path through. Now, all I had to do was maintain my hold on the spells long enough for Sif and Volstagg to go inside and retrieve the Aether. I kept my eyes closed and spoke quietly, so as not to disturb my concentration, "The doors should be open now. Go in there quickly, and be careful not to touch me."

The warriors did not respond, and I did not open my eyes, but I did hear them walk past me. I heard them open the doors –

A wave of nausea suddenly hit me. I felt as if hot magma was rushing through my veins. A thick, sickening heat traveled from my chest and up my neck, choking me. My eyes snapped open, but my vision was warped and red. Immediately, the charms smashed back together, the barrier rebuilt within seconds. A shrill alarm filled my ears, splitting my skull, and I knew that I had failed.

Sif and Volstagg were already in the room, but they whirled around to face me as soon as the alarm sounded. Several expressions flashed across their faces, from shock to betrayal to rage. "Sif!" I tried to shout her name, to tell her to get out of there, but my voice was hoarse and broken. She seemed to understand, though, and the she-warrior dashed forward, trying to exit the room, but an invisible force blocked her path. She and Volstagg were trapped.

I pitched forward, my knees suddenly weak, and I met the ground with a jarring force. A choked scream tore from my throat as the flesh on my forearm sizzled and hissed. Thin fingers of smoke curled up from my flesh as the Berkana was slowly and painfully burned away. A white-hot hand gripped and twisted my heart and lungs. I could neither breathe nor speak. Everything spun around me in a whirlwind of scorching red.

I felt the Tesseract's energy crackle within me. While before it had energized me, now it felt like it was obliterating my organs, swelling and stabbing my insides until I felt I would burst. Apart from my tormented body, my mind drifted. I saw myself writhing and gasping on the floor as if it were somebody else. _Of course_, I thought, gravely realizing my mistake. _The enchantments had been shielding me from most of the energy spikes given off by the Infinity Gems. Now that I have disabled the spells, there is nothing to protect me from receiving the full power of the Tesseract and Aether._

_And it is tearing me apart_.

This was worse than anything I had ever experienced. Being stabbed or beaten against the floor of Stark Tower was nothing compared to this. Surely there was no torture Helheim could concoct that could rival the absolute agony that the Infinity Stones forced down my throat. Not even the Chitauri had brought me this much pain.

I tried to stand up, to force my legs to move, but the best I could do was to make my limbs flop around uselessly. Finally, I managed to lift my head and search for Sif with glazed eyes. I made out her shape, what must have only been a few meters in front of me, but what seemed a million miles away. "Get…Aether…" My voice was guttural and animalistic, barely understandable.

The she-warrior only snarled in fury and banged on the invisible wall with her fist. Her mouth moved, and I could tell that she was speaking, screaming threats and curses at me, but no sound met my ears. _Sound-proof_. Damn. We had minutes, _seconds_ before the guards would get here, and Sif thought that I had done this on purpose, that I had betrayed them. If I could only talk to her…

A fresh wave of hot agony wracked through my body, and I writhed, screaming until I felt blood well up in my throat. My back arched and my fingers curled. I spasmed and convulsed, feeling skin and muscle tear like paper beneath the power of the combined Gems.

I didn't have long, I knew. I cut my eyes over to Sif. She wore an expression of confusion mixed with horror as she watched me scream. Volstagg was shouting at her furiously, but their words could not reach me. A flicker of bright red caught my eye, and I recognized the dark glint of the Aether's energy. It was encased in something that resembled a lantern. I wanted to shout, "Behind you! It's right there," but I could only manage to swing my arm in its direction, pointing with trembling fingers.

Sif seemed to understand. She looked behind her and caught sight of the Aether. I saw her say something to Volstagg, and together they rushed towards it.

Suddenly, I heard pairs boots thud against the floor. I lolled my head in the other direction and saw guards coming towards me. Were there six? Seven? I could not tell if I was seeing double or not. They held their spears out cautiously. "By the Norns! Is that Loki?" I heard a voice say. It was layered and twisted, like my vision. _No_…

It was all falling apart. I was discovered, Sif and Volstagg were captured, the Allfather was in his Odinsleep… I felt like I was being drowned, held underwater, kicking and thrashing.

A sudden thought came to me. These guards were the only people, besides Sif and Volstagg who knew I was alive. If I could keep them from getting away…

I raised a hand towards them. They backed away, tried to run, but everything seemed to slow down. For just one second, the pain was gone, replaced by the electric rush of the Tesseract. I was inside of myself, and I held onto something with a tight and desperate grip. What it was, I couldn't completely place. My control, my sanity, my sense… It didn't matter so much in that moment. Right then, it was just the thing holding me back. I found my voice and screamed as I let it go.

For a moment, I was nowhere. Everything was black and silent, but then the heat came to me. Then a ringing filled my ears. Then my vision returned. The pain suddenly hit, and once again I was nothing but a broken form lying on the stone floor. My nostrils were filled with the rank stench of scorched flesh and burnt metal. Through my daze, I heard voices – Sif's and Volstagg's. The burst of energy must have shattered the force field keeping them in the relics vault.

"He killed them. He killed them all." It was Volstagg who said that.

Then came Sif's voice: "We need to go. We don't have much time before more guards get here."

"And where do you suppose we go? No world will take us. I know of no place where we can hide the Aether."

A pause. "I know of a being who resides on the edges of the galaxy. He does not like getting involved in worldly affairs, but he is fond of collecting artifacts. If we take a ship, we could hide the Aether with him," said Sif

Approaching footsteps, and Volstagg's voice saying, "We can't afford to delay! Let's just go!"

"Well we can't leave him here!" Sif objected. I felt soft, slim fingers touch my skin for the smallest of seconds, but then there was a sound like searing flesh, and Sif cursed, jerking her hand away from me. I didn't say anything. I couldn't. I could only lie down limply as agony destroyed my insides.

"Sif, please," Volstagg urged. "We must make haste."

Another brief moment of silence, and then Sif sighed heavily. I heard her get up and leave with Volstagg. I wanted to cry out like a lost child, _Please! Don't leave me alone!_

But they were already gone.

I was left on the floor, and I stayed there, tormented, until I gratefully fell into darkness.

I found myself in a dream, though it was very different from the one I had before. I was in my cell, lying on the bed. The broken pieces of glass and furniture were scattered around the floor. I was clothed only in my trousers. My chest was bare, revealing the long and ugly rope of swollen flesh that ran down the center of my chest. I stared up at the ceiling, unable to move.

"My child…" The voice was so soft that I barely heard it, but still I turned my head to my left. Frigga sat in the chair beside me. She looked just as she had when I last saw her, clothed in her blue and silver gown, her golden hair brushed away from her face.

"Mother," I tried to sit up and take her in my arms, but my limbs were heavy, and I could only squirm slightly on the bed. "Mother, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Hush, dear." Frigga placed one delicate hand on my head and stroked back my hair the way she did when I was a child. "You mustn't exhaust yourself. You've been gravely injured," she said.

I laughed without humor. A lump formed in my throat and my stomach twisted into knots. "It will get better. Now that the Aether is away –"

"I wasn't talking about your chest," she interrupted. She stared meaningfully at me with her grey-green eyes. She had looked at me the exact same way when I told her she wasn't my mother.

Before I knew it, tears were sliding down my face. "I'm sorry," I whispered. She tried to hush me, but I silenced her with a look. "No, hear me." My voice broke. "It's my fault. I lead the Kursed to your door. I had been blinded by my hatred, that… If I hadn't been so selfish, then you wouldn't be…" I couldn't continue.

"I wouldn't be what?" Frigga asked softly.

"Dead," I finished with a hiccup.

She gave me a sad smile. "Oh, my child. I am not dead. I'm right here."

"You're not real, though," I insisted. "It's my fault…all my fault…"

"No." Frigga bent down and pressed her lips against my wet cheek. I felt so small, like I was a child. "I live still in your heart. Yours and your brother's. As long as you remember me, I shall never die."

I shook my head. "I miss you so much."

"I know, my child. I know."


End file.
